'Sing No Evil', Read No Evil, Write No Evil

Firstly, I should begin with a huge apology to you all that I missed last week. I recently moved house and I have a lot going on, so this blog will, unfortunately, from now on become a bi-monthly post, as opposed to a weekly one. If it were up to me, I would continue on as I do now, however unfortunately my university work does come before all else.

                This week is a rather odd review, as I read this particular book partly because I was lucky enough that Abrams & Chronicle gave me a copy, but partly because all my other books are in assorted boxes and suitcases, and so this is my explanation for the saturation of graphic novels on the blog at the moment. ‘Sing No Evil’ instantly appealed to me because a) it involves a man and his fight for his Avant-garde metal band (which sounds a lot like quite a few people I know), but also because b) their drummer is a bear, and I always think that the Dairy Milk advert missed a trick by putting the gorilla not a grizzly to the Phil Collins soundtrack. This book explores one man’s fight for his music, with some demonic tunes, possessed arch rivals and a love triangle thrown in. There are even some enchanting obscure references added to the mix (I particularly like the Opeth cameo), and this is really a book that fills a gap in the market in that sense, whilst still not alienating a regular audience. Maybe the reader will not get the allusion to Kiss, but they will certainly sympathise with Aksel when his vocals are describing in non too flattering terms, versus the new voice of an angel his band mate/love interest Lily finds in a guy she discovers in a takeaway restaurant.

                I will admit that this book has a few problems with story linearity, and there were quite a few points when I questioned, in my standard eloquent manner, what happened to thing with the thing and the other thing. This is also played into the ending a little, which didn’t feel as conclusive as I would have liked it to, and seemed more like a fizzle than a bang. More than anything, the narrative structure was suffering from a syndrome of confusion in terms of pace, either racing forward and entirely showing not telling (with still not quite enough showing), or using such state-the-obvious dialogue you’d have to be blind, deaf and not paying attention in order to not understand. However, the character’s erratic nature and then lazy periods come across really well through this pacing, even if it’s a little uncomfortable to read, and the way music, fast and slow, is depicted is pure brilliance in comic format.

                Sing No Evil can live up to its title in terms of book brilliance, as it stands looking a little like Scott Pilgrim with a little less pop culture and a little more demons. With brilliant art, and mixture of funny, moving and terrifying moments, Sing No Evil is for those who really, REALLY like their music. And I mean really, really like it. 

Time To Flesh Out The 'City Of Bones'

I thought my days of reviewing books with shirtless men on the cover was over but hey, c'est la vie, as the song goes. The Mortal Instruments series seems to have become a synonym for fantasy, and, after all, it had a movie so it must be pretty well liked and therefore relatively excellent (then again so did Twilight, but let's not get off on the wrong foot here). I was lucky enough it get a copy of City Of Bones by Cassandra Clare to read, thanks to Walker Books, and I've had a pretty mixed reaction to it.

To begin with, I should say, I had biased opinions left, right and centre about this book before even reading it, so I entered it with dazed preconceptions and an odd sense of foreboding, but I was pleasantly surprised. The world created, whilst not altogether original, had its own personal quirks and twists, including vampires on motorcycles, magic tattoos and the witch that lives downstairs. Most importantly, it never took itself too seriously in these quirks. This worked through Simon as a non-magic relief from the constant glowering shadow of the Shadowhunter world. Oddly, I found Simon a hell load more endearing than the ShadowHunter teens (Jace particularly, but Alec at points), and there were moments where he broke from his comic persona to have quite moving character development. The plot itself was a rollacoaster and surprisingly sustaining for a book of this size, with more twists and turns than I even bothered counting after a while, although this did fall down towards the end of the story where every plot twist became less and less unexpected. This was not because the plot was easily guessed, but because you can only gasp for so long before you run out of air, but, as I said, the plot held its own in a novel where it could easily have overstayed its welcome.

However, I noticed that, whilst being more-ish as chocolate digestives in terms of wanting to know what happens in the next volume of this saga, there are an awful lot of problems with it that nearly stop me from doing so. Firstly, why is it seemingly impossible to have a fantasy heroine who everyone is not in love with? Not only does everyone seem to overwhelming adore Clary (paternally or romantically), but she brushes up against Mary Sue territory about it. I find this particularly frustrating as a) the love triangle plot has been done until death and burial, and it is beginning to decompose at this juncture, but also b) because the book would have worked out better had there only been one romance subplot running around. I even believe I can say this without spoiler, because men's feelings for Clary in the novel are immediately and painfully obvious from the moment they're introduced, and are then cemented my Clary's constant doubt in her own appearance and talent. I do tend to rant a little about this, but it's wearing, particularly when the novel itself is actually pretty gripping, with very few feelings of sluggishness in terms of pace.

So I have a lot of mixed feelings about this novel, mainly in a feeling of "it's good, but is it enough to justify Clary" kind of way. The best way I can think of to sum up City Of Bones is that it's a little like if Apple had brought out a tablet for the first time, and whilst bring brilliantly fast and well designed, it was also painted with bright tiger stripes on either side. It's playing to a niche market, but being honest, if it works and plays Netflix, you'll probably buy it anyway. 

The Shocking Truth Is That 'We Were Liars'

I have heard a lot about E. Lockhart's 'We Were Liars' without really hearing anything at all, and, from reading it, I now understand why. It is a book that is almost impossible to review without spoiling, a book so impossible to navigate through with a linear description because of its mystery. But I've got nothing else for you guys this week, so I thought I'd give it a whirl.

In most books, there is a core theme that holds all the bits together whether it be romance, adventure quest, what have you. In 'We Were Liars', I am torn as to whether this device is fear or suspense. I certainly became afraid whilst reading the novel, and I was holding my breath, tapping my tablet with rocket speed to get to the next page at points, as the suspense was so strong, but I remain on the fence as to which of these two dominates the other. Before anyone says it, though similar, these two do not have the same effect, and, whilst reading it before Great British Bake Off did kill my cookie-induced calm, I am a great appreciator of the uses of both fear and suspense in this novel. Despite the fact that a private island has become a hell of a lot less attractive now, Lockhart really sells the creepy sense of fear in the novel, married perfectly to its underlying terrifying tone.

I did have a few small practical concerns with this book, I’ll admit, and I’ll insert a quick disclaimer here, whilst I normally attempt to be a spoiler free as possible, there will be hints of plot (only hints, but still) in this section of the review. Right, now that’s said, I will begin by noting that it seemed incredibly odd to me that they were seemingly able to stop children, who could not even restrain themselves from calling their cousin a drug addict in one section of the novel (I warned about spoilers!), from spilling the whole truth about everything that happens to Cady. The secrecy that surrounds her life is maintained by every character, even small children, who also, oddly again, seem undamaged by the slow but extremely noticeable deterioration to their family structure. This was another minor practical issue I had. The ‘littles’ as they are referred to, seem untouched by all the tragedy that’s around them to a larger extent, whilst everyone else is falling apart. And, again I’m trying not to spoil totally, it is not as if the tragedy would not affect them directly: it most certainly would. However, there could be two good explanations for this in that firstly, Cady is definitely an unreliable narrator for multiple reasons, and secondly, the littles are not a focus, so even if they were falling apart, it’s not that noticeable to Cady who only notices the liars, so I may have to let my quibbles slide.

Ignoring the minor nit-picks I had with the practicality issues, I believe I have navigated myself to a spoiler-free conclusion about 'We Were Liars' and that is, for a novel as brief as it is, it truly has a hard-hitting and powerful presence. With its slow-growing sense of dread and it's frank and frightening honesty, this novel really brings a beautifully broken life into view.

Excitement Is But 'Seconds' Away

I may have gone a little overboard on the whole graphic novel adoration in recompense for my neglect, but this was not an opportunity to not review (if that makes sense). Thanks to the lovely folks as Abrams & Chronicle, I was able to get my desperate hands on a copy of ‘Seconds’ by Bryan Lee O’Malley. Even now, as I stare at its glowing, red cover on my desk, remembering what it was like to read it makes me, to put it eloquently, squiggly inside with happiness.
                The first thing I must say about this book is simply this: it’s beautiful. Not pretty, not quirky, beautiful. I would say it once again if it were not a word of diminishing returns (also my need to maintain the counter-culture, looks-aren’t-as-important-as-personality demeanour I’m developing on this blog). The colour, the setting, the style, all of it is just wonderful to read. I am a blank canvas (pun intended) in terms of art and illustration, but I can tell when it builds beautifully with a narrative and this is done so wonderfully in  ‘Seconds’. All aspects of this book’s aesthetic marry perfectly its comedy with its tragic side, which, though it may be a balancing act, works so well in this rather frank novel.
                One of the best aspects of this book as a whole is using Katie as the protagonist. She is certainly no Mary Sue, and this only the beginning of what makes her endearing. Similar to O’Malley’s other notorious hero Scott Pilgrim, Katie is unashamed by taking the easy way out, she can be cowardly at times and she is often pretty damn selfish. She has, what I have come to call, ‘Holden Caulfield Syndrome’, but oddly enough she wears it better than most, and comes across in a way that is more flawed human than obnoxious pain. She’s surrounded by other characters who call her out on her mistakes rather than happily ignoring them, which seriously helps, particularly because, personally, I think ‘Seconds’ wouldn’t work if they did. Without spoilers, screw-ups are a major plot point in the novel, and if everyone just went “Oh well, because you are the protagonist, we’ll pretend this didn’t happen and adore you unconditionally and unconvincingly anyway”, it would be more than a little confusing.
                It’s hard to critique this one without sounding like I’m being picky, but I do have to say it was a smidge confusing at points. Maybe I’m a simpleton, but I struggle with Stephen-Moffat-style timelines, and in a graphic novel, whilst being easier in this sense than straight text , it doesn’t erase the confusion entirely. The ending was also a little neat for me, but that’s more a matter of personal preference than it is an actual criticism. I think I’ve said before, despite being a lover of happy endings, I always struggle with believing come characters deserve them. Katie however, did actually develop, a feat accomplished by O’Malley that should not be sniffed at, considering that some authors can’t manage that in a whole series, and so at least there is a strong undertone that she’d worked hard to achieve her neat ending.
                ‘Seconds’ has been long-awaited by fans of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s work (including myself!), and I’m happy to say they won’t be disappointed. Packed with the typical fourth-wall-breaking comedy and unsettlingly poignant tragedy that can be expected, O’Malley delivers this hilarious and yet moving novel with style. 

Beware And Prepare For The Great 'El Deafo'!

I have been a little slack in terms of reviewing graphic novels on this blog. True, I did manage one, however I really don’t think that is giving a nearly good enough image of my longstanding love for them. Although I am a superhero comic reader, my personal favourite style of graphic novel are human stories (doesn’t matter if their contemporary, historical, political, etc) and ‘El Deafo’ by Cece Bell certainly fitted that category for me.

               Based on a true story, this adorable novel centres on Cece and her life as a child growing up with hearing impairment, and how it affects her – in every respect. Oddly enough for me, what I liked best about this portrayal was the appearance conscious nature of Cece, as it made her seem so wonderfully human and relatable. She wasn’t desperately worthy or dysfunctional or pitiful, she was a child facing a lot of difficulties, and struggling the ubiquitous struggle: acceptance from others around her. Another strong element of this book is its comedy, often visual (yes pun intended), and how it makes light of things that, without the illustrations, would likely make readers uncomfortable, as they’d be viewing it from an adult lens, or at the least an objective one. However, because all we see is through Cece, and through her funny view of the world, the reader feels happy to laugh with her at others, rather than feel trapped in a bubble unable to help her.

               On the other hand, this doesn’t kill the poignancy of the book in any way, and Cece’s struggle seem just as honest and daunting to us as if we were living it ourselves. Cece's life could seen as not dramatic enough for some of even a little too easy in places (the boy she happens to fancy lives in her road and seems to be the only one that isn't bothered by the wires), but I think that's the media-installed stereotype expectations of polarised tragedy or success talking. Cece's life is real and appears so to us, in a way that only an unreliable narrator can convey. This reminds to make special mention to the author, Cece Bel,l that she has managed something that so many autobiographies fail to. Whilst all self depictions doubtlessly include the words "I know I wasn't perfect but", there is something about the illustrated format that demonstrates and explains this better than words can. The reader doesn't feel like they should be siding against the Cece in these moments; it is in fact the opposite. You feel a greater sense of empathy with Cece than you would if she was entirely flawed or entirely perfect. It is this very relatable nature that makes the book so addictive.

           I could go on for years regarding the art style for this novel. I could talk a long while about its important accepting attitude. However, I will settle for simply saying this - it did not make me cry and this is it's greatest strength. It is surprisingly easy to evoke tears in a reader, but for something a little deeper and more realistic and yet equally as resonant? That's something to be celebrated.

Guess Who's Becoming A Pinch 'Unhinged'

I will admit, the ending of 'Splintered'  (A.G. Howard and last weeks review) did not have me dying of desperation for a sequel, as it didn't really end on the classic cliffhanger you expect of a book with a sequel. However, I was intrigued to see the life Alyssa built for herself without Wonderland, and particularly with her family and I thought this book would most likely be quite like the first, with different adventures thrown in for variety. I was wrong. It's so, so much better than that. 

Sequels have a tendency in films to try and remake their original, and create a slightly paler version. Luckily, 'Unhinged' does not make the same mistakes. Standing as a slowly unravelling mystery, wrapped in a thriller, it does an excellent job of not attempting to remake the constant pace and action of the first. This story creeps inside your skin in a way that the first didn't quite manage for me (which, to be fair, is near damn impossible in firsts in series), and it shone for this. The tone and style have really moved with the story, and all the cracks of betrayal were so well placed I can honestly say I didn't see all of them coming. Alyssa grew a lot in this novel as well, and she's stopped having irritating moments, which became known collectively in my head as "You can't tell me what to do, you're not my Dad" moments. Wonderland was as well created as I mentioned in my previous review (I won't start again on that fangirling, I promise), and I love the growth of newer characters from 2D to humans, like her mum, the Ivory Queen, Chessie etc. But, more than anything, I liked the way the plot swerved in this book, and being a fan of the story may sound old fashioned, but it's what really sold 'Unhinged' to me.

I had two problems with this Wonderland novel, the first of which was that it lacked Wonderland for me. I know that it was intended to represent the differences between it and the real world, and the infiltration of the real world by netherling magic, but as the creation of Wonderland was so strong in 'Splintered', I missed it a little here (although the train and the iron bridge were very clever). I raise my hands in prayer that the final book will be set entirely in the other realm. My other issue actually began on Twitter with the hashtags #MothMinions and #JebJunkies. My largest problem with both the gentlemen is that firstly, despite both of them knowing Alyssa's potential and power, they still feel the need to patronise and protect her (Morpheus, I'll admit, less so, but it is still very much there). My other issue is that neither of them are all that nice, or even understanding, to her during the story, and seem to have a strange desire to possess her rather than love her. Maybe it's because I don't fall for Jeb's diamond-in-the-rough style or Morpheus' seductive charms, but I'm tagging #AlyssaAgency.

Having said this, I did really appreciate the way Alyssa's love life was treated in this novel, more than the first, where her journey and her work towards defeating the forces of evil worked alongside the romance, rather than it simply jumping front of the plot occasionally. 'Unhinged' builds on 'Splintered' in the best way, and Howard has really done an excellent job with this development. It's a gripping read, that really works on the mystery behind the story, and, more than anything, leaves me dying for Book Three. 2015 can't come quicker.

I Apologise If My Mind Is A Little 'Splintered'

Firstly, I begin this blog with a huge apology, as I failed to upload last week. I had a CRAZY busy week, with London Film and Comic-Con and Young Adult Literature Con, and I just didn’t get everything finished in time. However, in order to make up for this, I have a real treat for you all this week, as I got to jump down the rabbit hole, and, thanks to Abrams and Chronicle, was lucky enough to read ‘Splintered’ by A.G. Howard.
                To begin with, and I know this is little to do with the book itself, but the cover is beautiful, so much so that pretty much every one of my housemates have picked it up and began the first couple of pages (most of whom have now finished the whole book whilst I slept). It’s also very appropriate for a book that lures you in as ‘Splintered’ does. Set in modern day, Alyssa suffer from the fear of going mad as all the women in her family do, with fantastical notions of Wonderland, which, of course, all turn out to be all too real, as she discovers when she jumps down the rabbit hole. I am not a strong purist, and twists on classics are something I really enjoy, but even if you don’t, this book and Lewis Carroll’s are by no means mutually exclusive. The self-referential nature of this book means it cleverly builds on the original, rather than erases or alters it. I particularly enjoyed the physical re-imaginings of the Wonderland creatures, which, whilst being adorable as an eccentric hatter and white bunny, were fascinating as a man with no face and a skeletal creature with huge antlers respectively. Howard’s visual description is a true credit to her writing ability, and she brings Wonderland to life in a way that is capturing and still horrifying (Burton, take note!).
                But the romance plot in this novel waivered a little for me in places. Alyssa’s suitor Jeb occasionally went from very wooden to sudden fiery, and although Morpheus seemed unreal, he at least had an excuse. Saying that (spoiler alert!), Morpheus being forgiven by Alyssa at the end of the novel made absolutely no sense to me after all he’d done, regardless of his unreal nature. I also worried that Howard allowed the romance to over-run the story a little too much in places. The action was plentiful in the book, and, as I said, the creation of Wonderland so brilliant, that its time as a highlight in the plot dragged a little in places. I know that it was necessary, and it did act as a good cohesive for the chaos plot twist, however, I really think Alyssa’s character didn’t need the amount of support that the men seemed to keep trying to give her. Then again, as her independence and agency is what she’s trying to establish all along, something she even manages to achieve romantically in the end, I think I can forgive Howard’s break from action for Alyssa’s love life.
                I could go on forever about my love for the recreation of Wonderland in the novel, and the re-imagining of its inhabitants would take another eternity to follow that, however I think if I shorten it down a little, I would simply say that Howard has really achieved a detailed, intricate and charming fantasy world in this novel, which is by far something to be praised. Even better was getting a chance to say “Curiouser and curiouser” in real life, following the twisting plot of this delectable story.

Tune in next week, for a review of the sequel 'Unhinged'!

Am I A True 'Fangirl'?

                                         

Thanks to Ninja Book Swap, I got the chance to read Rainbow Rowell’s interesting new book ‘Fangirl’. I won’t lie, as a member of multiple fandoms, I was really excited by the prospect of it being treated in a near mainstream light in this book, jargon intact and all, but I have to be honest, Rainbow Rowell surprised me quite a bit with this one.
                There were a lot of elements to like about this book. The fandom that the main character Cath is a part of is clearly a copy, in a lot of ways, of Harry Potter, something I adore and have done for as long as I can really remember now, and the main ship that Cath chooses to sail with is that of Simon and Baz (aka Harry and Draco). This wrongfooted me a little, because when people preach this pairing, I can’t get my head around it, but that is my personal choice and a niggle critique I will admit. The comedy that arose from a lot of the “them and us” mentality (by which I mean Cath versus everyone who knew nothing about internet fandoms) was really well executed, and, however much I’d like to believe people are more open-minded, I felt for Cath at the points when she tried to explain how Baz and Simon could be in relationship, only to hear the response, “Pfft, Simon isn’t gay!” This book felt really well researched in its knowledge of fan-fiction and fan communities, and the sorority you feel for Cath and Wren when they hold the eighth Simon Snow in their hands is touching in a way that I didn’t expect. The romance, between Levi and Cath, felt equally well constructed, and with its stumbles and fix-ups feeling a lot less ridiculous-sweeping-romantic-gesture (for once in YA!), and it veering far nearer to a realistic-honest-and-even-occasionally-painful kind of affection.
                I had, however, a lot of problems with this book in certainly equal measure. Cath’s character was one where I couldn’t understand why any reader would like her unless they were exactly like her. She came across as dismissive and very judgemental, and, most of all, she was never punished for any bad decisions she made. For example, skipping class and missing an exam and not really even bothering to inform anyone was resolved by her easily retaking the exam and getting another two chances for her final assignment. This was particularly poignant as Wren seemed to be punished even more than average, as she seemed to only drink socially, something Cath was very judgemental and even, at points, cruel about, and she got alcohol poisoning and was grounded (in a sense) by their father. This imbalance seemed to support Cath’s “never anything new at all ever” viewpoint a little too much for me, making it seem as though Cath’s decision to be closeminded was the correct one and that Wren, who dared to try and establish an independent life from her sister, including seeing their mother for the first time, was wrong in every sense. I understand juxtaposition, but I really think that Cath’s character development (which was really only that she stopped writing fan-fiction for school projects and would talk to a person that wasn’t Wren or her boyfriend) was really tainted by the fact that she just never learnt anything and that the world simply changed around her, rather than the reverse.

                Overall, I have mixed feelings on this book. Whilst I love its link to fandoms, and I think it is a really clever way to show someone coming out of their shell, I am disappointed that there was little growth in a character who really needed to grow up, if only a little. Maybe I will have to begin some fan-fiction of my own to add a few tweaks (in my head) to what was otherwise a very funny and heart-warming book. 

Come Witness The Savage Spectacle Of 'Wild Boy'!

Sometimes, I like a little variety in the young fiction I read, and the best way I've found to do this is to look at fiction for a slightly younger age range. I've done this before on this blog, for example when I reviewed 'Wonder', and I'm always just a pinch fascinated to see the differences between what is classified by children’s and YA. However, from reading ‘Wild Boy’ by Rob Lloyd Jones, I have confirmed my suspicion that it is not in the enjoyment found by older readers.

'Wild Boy' ticks all the boxes a 10-year-old would like ticked in a book. Action, adventure, mystery and a heroic underdog to root for. From about the 1980s to the 2000s, there has been a huge shift in that, in the more recent films, in the end, everyone who is under appreciated demonstrates their value and is rewarded zealously for it, be that in popularity, sport or even singing, if you're Zac Efron. Wild Boy makes a perfect underdog and his partner in crime Clarissa passes well for a loveable rogue with a tragic past. Part of what makes this book so appealing is its cast of vivid Victorian-styled characters. This is not just the circus members, but in the work house and in the intellectual circles Wild Boy eventually uncovers. These perfectly painted caricatures cast themselves in roles that are often horrible, and visibly grotesque (it is a freak show, literally, at points in this novel), and really bring the story to life. This is helped even further by Rob Lloyd Jones' backdrop of creepy Victorian London, with twists and turns in setting so frequently, you may have to be a Londoner (which thankfully I am) to keep up.

This, I would say, was the books only disadvantage. With such a well-known setting as London, it's impossible to be vague about where you are placing your tale, but, at the same time, this double edged sword means you are unable to keep your reader following so vividly at points, without the aid of a map. This book also suffered a little from too much going on. This does, as I said, tick every box for a 10-year-old's idea of adventure - but is that such a good thing? Sometimes less can be more, and, though I'll admit the pace of the plot kept up, there were so many different settings running around at a point I was slightly lost. A little more description of each location would have gone a long way in helping this, but I guess something must be sacrificed in the name of a fast paced adventure, and setting is not the worst thing that could have been chosen.

All in all, I was really charmed by 'Wild Boy'. Something about it felt unique, which is pretty rare in fiction these days. It's been compared often enough to Sherlock Holmes, but this is selling it short as simply an emulation of a classic. 'Wild Boy' stands strong as a strong and fascinating read all on its own, not needing to hold itself as a mimesis,  but using well known elements to its best advantage.

Ninja Book Swap!

NB: I know this isn't my normal post day, but this needed a blog :)

I was lucky enough again this year to be able to participate in the Ninja Book Swap, an organised swapping of presents and good reads between book fanatics. And when I say lucky enough, I am not kidding: my application just managed to get sent on the minute of the deadline. I will not spoil you on on what I sent my present partner (as I only sent their parcel out yesterday and so I doubt they will have it yet, however I do wish to thank @bethlikesbikes (go check out her twitter) for my amazing gifts.

Firstly this is easily the most well wrapped parcel I have had in ages, seriously, do you know how long I spent with sellotape wrapped round my fingers?

I am seriously impressed by wrapped skills, and then when I got to the inside everything was beautiful wrapped in tissue paper and I just had a small happy moment looking at it for a while.

The adorable card that came with it.

The actual books? PERFECT. I have been dying to read ‘Fangirl’ for ages, and anything Neil Gaiman is a winner for me.

The presents were equally adorable. I have always believed I may secretly be a unicorn. Now I am sure of it.

So thank you so much again to @bethlikesbikes and thank you to @NinjaBookSwap. If you wanna think about joining in with this fantastic treasure, give them a tweet or click right here!

Can It Really Be 'More Than This'?

I've always tried to not be too influenced by what other people say. But when the front cover of Patrick Ness' 'More Than This' had a comment by John Green saying "Just read it", it steered my eyes towards it like a rocket. I'm a nerdfighter and I am partial to a little of both of the Green brothers, and, despite my questionably positive reviews of both of John's books that I have reviewed so far, we do seem to have a similar taste in literature. So, putting aside my feelings for its minimalist yet somehow garishly yellow cover, I picked it up and gave it a go.

I'll be brutally. honest, this book is not a quick starter. If you're one who needs immediate action or dialogue, I would skip to part two, as aside from the boy's death (it's not a spoiler if it's in the blurb), the beginning feels, in places, a little more Bear Grylls than what is the deeper purpose of all this. Do not, however, hold this against it. The opening chapters are at least slow on purpose, as, if our protagonist suddenly remembered everything and acquired immaculate survival skills without any struggle or vomiting, I would have a lot more problems with the opening. Alongside this, the rest of the novel is very pacey, dramatic, bang-bang action, and without this calm before the storm, I feel it would develop skim-read syndrome, a disease suffered by books with so much plot that the reader skim reads just to find out what happens next. Ness has this beautiful balance with his story, as elegantly placed as a grain of sand to two feathers on a scale, and yes if you're not into slow starters you might struggle a bit, but I promise the end result is worth it.

My problem reviewing this book is reviewing without spoilers. So much of this novel's foundations are laid in layer after layer of surprise, with plot twists that even I, a seasoned cynic and story-spoiler, couldn't guess. Ness' other real strength in this book is his perfectly un-beautiful character creation. I have said before and I shall shout it from the highest hills: YA does not need more Mary Sue, perfect protagonists, what it needs is believable people. Whether they are a likeable person to the reader or not, they should be real characters, real personalities, real emotion underneath their printed paper skins. Everything about the main character of 'More Than This' felt real, his selfishness, his loss, his anger, his guilt and, above all, his desperation and conundrum as to whether he is alive or dead. 

A lot of the time, people have a tendency to pigeon hole YA to not a 'serious' subject material, reducing it down to the 'Twilight's of this world. 'More Than This' wipes this theory off the face of the planet. Taking such a heavy subject matter and handling it so beautifully is the greatest skill of Patrick Ness' novel and it is definitely worth a read, albeit only if you're sure you have existential-crisis-proof hat on.

Could This Be 'The Jewel' In The Crown (Of Dystopian YA)?

I was lucky enough, thanks to Walker Books, to have the chance to read ‘The Jewel’ by Amy Ewing. As I said a few weeks back, I am not a true buff with regards to dystopian fiction, but when I was told this had a real ‘Handmaid’s Tale’ feel to it, I was intrigued. Atwood struck gold with that novel, and I was very interested to see a YA take on the idea.
                This story of Violet, Lot 197, sold to the highest bidder in order to be used as a surrogate, was really moving in sections but also managed to maintain a constant tenseness. The sense of “oh God, what’s that horrible shadow and is it going to come back for her” was written into the very fabric of Ewing’s style. What was most impressive about this however was that I still didn’t lose the actual moments of joy that Violet did have in the novel. It’s easy in a world of seemingly never ending doom to simply extinguish any of the hope for improvement, hitting rock bottom and then simply knocking the floor in again and again. Whilst this can still be really lovely writing, it gets a little desensitising (I use Game Of Thrones deaths for my marker for this one). Even right up to climax of the novel, I still believed and prayed and, though small, the little white saint of hope stood ever-vigilant in a corner somewhere. I’m not a huge sucker for happy endings, in fact quite the opposite, but it always gives a stronger reading experience when you get a three-dimensional view of tragedy. There are quite a few seriously shocking scenes in this book (sorry to spoil, but there were servitude leashes involved) which helped to amplify this contrast even further, assisted even more by the setting. When horrid things happen in grubby towns, it isn’t really a surprising read, but in a palace of sheer decadence and whilst everyone is wearing a chiffon gown? Now that is a place that gives an already horrifying event a whole new skin of repulsiveness.
                This novel was not without its flaws. The romance subplot did feel a little shoe-horned at points, but only because there were quite a few threads they were attempting to tie up. To be fair to novel, it did manage to do this, but there were points where I felt Violet and Ash’s relationship struggled to be a story in its own right, and yet at points it seemed the entire novel’s plot was their love. However, having said this, the romance was not an unlovable twee one, and the “oh I’ve never met someone I might fancy before” vibe at least made sense as Violet had basically never seen any men that weren’t family or her make-up artist for the Auction, Lucian (who was hands down my favourite character, although it did seem a little like copying ‘The Hunger Games’ from the film clips I’ve seen.) Ash felt at least slightly developed, which is more that can be said for most characters of his kind, and, despite being a little too tragic for my liking, I was rooting for him and Violet at the end.
                Overall, I really thought this book did justice to a pretty terrifying theme, and its cliff-hanger ending left me dying for more (seriously, I have already begun fan theories in my mind). The book is released in September, and I highly recommend giving it a go. Ewing has found Atwood’s mine and found a whole new precious metal with ‘The Jewel’.

I Found Something When I Was 'Looking For Alaska'

Today, I review the infamous 'Looking For Alaska' by John Green, and this is one novel where I really struggle as to where to begin. Part of this is because I know how popular it is and I feel afraid a lynching is a'coming if I criticise it, but it is more than that. On the one hand it is exactly the Bildungsroman I expected it to be from reviews, a relatively neutral protagonist, struggling towards a more exciting "Great Perhaps", and eventually succeeds. However, on the other hand, this book really surprised me, and impressed me with its honest and relatively complex characters and it was nothing like I expected. You see my dilemma.

              I'll start with the controversial stuff today. See if you follow my thinking on this one: I liked the book. I really enjoyed reading it, and I found it gripping and tragic and heart wrenching. But I think I liked Alaska dead more than Alaska alive. Now before you begin with "Ah yes, this is exactly how Miles felt, see you prefer her idealised form", no. I preferred Alaska dead because she was a "hurricane" and hurricanes destroy everything they touch. I found Alaska quite unlikable to be honest, but this was in part because the other characters were created so well, and also in a way that made them so likeable. This didn't mean Alaska was badly constructed (on the contrary, in my opinion) but it's a simple truth: you don't like characters who hurt your favourite characters and for me, that was a lot of Alaska's personality. The other part of her, which I was equally unmoved by and not fond of, was her endless sweeping statements and her brooding and moody attitude ("I smoke to die" was one I had a real distaste for). Regular readers may remember that this was the one of the only problems I could find with TFIOS, but I did excuse it as dying teenagers deserve to express their drama and feelings however they wish (oversimplification but you’ll catch my drift if you’ve read the previous review). But Alaska came off as more shallow from this, and even her backstory felt to be part of her cliché. I sound harsh, but I will say, amidst all my disinterest in Alaska, I found something in John Green's writing that was a true credit to him: creating a character I didn't exceptionally hate, but did not like, and make me believe they could be real.

One of the true masterstrokes of 'Looking For Alaska' was its view of teenage society and the values that exist in it. The protagonist is not particularly popular but he is also not disliked by his peers. He is simple an average boy, something that is all too rare in YA. I do get a little bored of reading how secretly special someone is after a while, and part of this is that it dismisses any person without this specialness as a character who is not important enough to be a hero. Something I actually adored about Miles' character was his frank nature towards his strengths and weaknesses, and that he never became polarised, becoming neither a dream-boat prince or a friendless loser. His humanness let him act as a perfect reflector and refractor for what was going on around him. Not just the tragedy either, no, the comedy was also put through his lens, and this allowed John Green to, not only immerse, but integrate his reader in his setting, which really helped when trying to (as fully as possible) understand some of the characters. More than anything though, this novel helps explain a very adult subject through a really fantastic perspective, demonstrating how teenagers discover the difference between adult things and adult life.

To conclude and to simply say how much I liked the book would not really be doing it the justice I think I would like to. It is exactly what a Bildungsroman should be, reminding me distinctly of 'The Catcher in the Rye' (a favourite of mine), but it brings the idea forward to a modern view of teenage life that I really enjoyed, despite my dislike of Alaska. Oddly enough, it often felt like she wasn't what I was really looking for -swans away in a cloud of cliché-.

Hearing Something New In 'Echo Boy'

I will begin this with a fact that may or may not surprise you: I have never read 'The Hunger Games'. It was not like I was staunchly against it, I just never seemed to get around to it. I do like dystopian fiction, after all 'Never Let Me Go' is one of my all time favourites, but the YA ones seem to have passed me by a little. This is why I was really glad that I got the chance to read Matt Haig's 'Echo Boy', a really stirring book about a society questioning what counts as human.

One of the first things you notice when reading 'Echo Boy' is its writing style, which is frankly magnetic. Matt Haig's way of a depicting a fractured half human consciousness is so real and so heart-wrenching at points that I didn't know whether to create an award for its writer or throw pillows at him for making me so sad inside. Daniel's narrative is really endearing and Audrey works well as she stands as a support with Daniel, but is still equal to him. As I said about 'Trouble', I'm a fan of split narratives, particularly because I think it really helps the pace control-wise, and with Daniel and Audrey it really enhanced the "two sides, same coin" theory. Whilst I'll admit the 'opposites attract' theory was not working at necessarily its strongest here, the way the narratives interweave, and the way logical thinking and emotional response act in them, was really quite fantastic.  

The plot of this novel is not the most original or unexpected one I will admit (I mean, since Hamlet we've known that Uncle's are always evil), and there are some issues with the romance element of it, at least for me. I think more than anything, this book struggles from being a few chapters short of perfect. It needed just a little more establishment for the romance, only a little, but it would have really pushed that area from good to great. Saying that, the other areas of the novel certainly mask this element, particularly the concept of echoes at all. The creation of this dystopia is a master-stroke by Matt Haig, but it stands so beautifully because of its surrounding problems, which echo (yes, pun intended) even today. The human debate in the novel originally worried me. It risked running into the territory of cliche and being honest, I am hipster for "urgh, I've heard that before". But it was so well handled in this novel I couldn't resist. Daniel still holds enough automated response to be robot but enough fear (not love) to be human. It's another brilliant plan by Matt Haig that is pulled off near flawlessly.

Before reading 'Echo Boy', dystopian fiction was, I'll admit, a bit of a back thought on a long list of things to try. However, I am thoroughly converted to it by Matt Haig's novel, with a terrifying world of a future that seems all too possible. His style stands a testament to his talent and I was hooked from page one. I'd highly recommend this to anyone who's looking for a rollacoaster read.

Getting into 'Trouble' By Non Pratt

I have read a fair few teenage pregnancy books in my school years. As a constant thing that you’re insensitively warned about at an all-girls school (alongside eating disorders and the devil itself, s-e-x) it was a topic covered by about a quarter of the books in the library. This is partly why I was so interested to see in what direction Non Pratt’s ‘Trouble’ would take the well-used story arc, and, I can happily say, I was not disappointed.
                One of my favourite aspects of this book is its (finally!) non-Mary-Sue protagonist. Hannah is not a perfect angel by any means or definition. She’s selfish, she’s sharp-tongued, but, what I think is the most important thing, she has had sex with more than one person. Her pregnancy is not the result of a single fall from grace (well, not directly) but her simply being sexually active and careless once, out of many times in which she has been safe and careful. She doesn’t stand as a poor spoilt virgin, a dangerous image we see far too often in teen fiction, but a real teenager. I have made this comment before: I would rather read a book with characters that sometimes drive me crazy but act like real, and often irrational, teenagers, than those who form immaculate and adult impressions of teens. Hannah lives in a world where she drinks in the park on Friday nights, smokes cigarettes, and has sex through her own agency and choice (and, in some sections, doesn’t have sex through her own agency and choice). Yet she doesn’t seem to be out-of-control reckless like a daunting Skins character, simply acting like a teenager would, experimenting with her own boundaries, and the boundaries set around her.
                The style with which Pratt writes is really a reason to read the book in itself. The multi-perspective narrative in it truly works to its strength. It is often flipping through the same conversation in Aaron and Hannah’s minds and this had a profound effect on the conversation itself, even at points making it more heart breaking. Pratt’s style of writing dialogue and choreographing events in the present gave the book one hell of a pace, one which meant I was whisked along the story with its characters, with only moments of revelation to stop me in my tracks. This, in combination with her clever characters and twist-turn plot, creates a fantastic read.
                I could still nit-pick at this book for a few things, but I would be nit-picking as a near fine art. I found Aaron’s background vey over-dramatised, partially by its mystery through most of the novel, and I was disappointed that we didn’t see more of the consequences of Hannah’s pregnancy for other members of both her and Aaron’s family (Aaron’s Dad is a teacher at that school and no one seemed to care?). However, a more blue sky thinking part of my rather split mind wonders if that was part of the idea. My comment on multi-perspective narrative in a previous review (of the book Wonder) was very positive, because it allowed the reader to get a full picture of the main character’s life, whereas I think in ‘Trouble’, we see only Hannah and Aaron’s views because that is the degree to which their problems can be expressed. Through other’s eyes, Hannah’s pregnancy is a mistake and Aaron’s crisis over his old friend is simply grief, but that is not a lens that Pratt provides us with. We are restricted in these perspectives in order to understand a more personal version of events, a version that cannot be given by anyone but Aaron and Hannah.
                I thought I may have been done with teenage pregnancy style stories, but the reason that ‘Trouble’ is so good is because it is so much more than that. It is a teenage story, involving pregnancy, but it’s much more a bildungsroman than a simple 9 month diary. With Aaron’s story working in conjunction with Hannah’s, a brilliant, three-dimensional and charming novel is created.

Back With A Bang: 'Sally Heatcote: Suffragette'

First, I must begin this blog with an apology and that is an apology for my absence for what does feel like absolutely forever, but is actually 2 weeks. This is owing to a huge workload and a lot of stress over the past month, and I hope you will all forgive me. And so, in order to make it up to you, I decided to do something a little different this week. This week I will be reviewing ‘Sally Heathcote: Suffragette’ by Mary M Talbot, Kate Charlesworth and Bryan Talbot. This graphic novel caught my eye in Forbidden Planet, and, thinking it might quite interesting, I thought I’d give it a shot. After reading? Interesting does not even begin to cover how much I enjoyed it.
                I’ll begin with the narrative of the tale; it’s a clever depiction of a working class girl’s experiences with the suffragette movement and the Pankhurst family in general, mainly depicting her fervour and then disillusionment with said movement, and the desperation and fight that women faced at the time. I have read political graphic novels before (if you’re into that kind of thing, track down ‘Cuba: My Revolution’, it’s truly fab), and one of their true talents is telling a side of a story that isn’t so far publicised. When being taught about the suffragettes, most people remember the violence, but the idea that there was any other kind of suffragette but a militant one is something that I think so few people learn. Hell, even I was learning about them, I developed an unhealthy interest with Emily Davidson throwing herself under a horse, before realises that the famous Sylvia Pankhurst was actually a pacifist, but I digress. The protagonist Sally really, at first, believes in the militancy of her movement, a true follower of Christabel Pankhurst, and it is this very belief that makes her growing distaste of it all the more real and her separation from the movement all the more saddening to read. Sally creates a complicated image of the suffragette, a warrior who realises the true damage of some of her actions, which helps us as readers realise that the history we know of heroes and villains, freedom-fighters versus terrorists, is not a complete history, merely one aspect of a far more complex issue.
                Another point I have to make about this book, mainly because it would be a crime to Kate Charlesworth if I didn’t, is that its illustration is not only beautiful, but really adds another layer to the story. The pages contain a muted colour palette, with only the WSPU colours (green, white and purple, before you wiki it) and Sally’s bright orange hair used to break the grey and white frames. There are a few exceptions to this rule, for example the passage which is set entirely in candlelit darkness, but overall the effect of this is staggering. My own personal favourite element of the illustration was the metamorphic sequences representing the cat and mouse act, which really demonstrated the predatory and threatening nature of politics of the time towards the women’s suffrage movement. I also greatly enjoyed the realistic portrayals of women in it (no Barbies or manic pixie dream girls, woohoo!), who all came across as having the appearance of real women, something that a LOT of times is missed from graphic novels with attempts at realism.
                Overall, I have very little to criticise with this one (not that that is very new, but still). It portrays an interesting view of history, beautifully and (equally importantly) accurately, with a stack of references and notes at the back, which, if you’re a bit of a nerd like me and want to re-read with all the footnotes, is fascinating. Which is what I did promptly after reading. Twice.

REWIND: 'Pretty Things' by Sara Manning

I am always surprised when I realise how old books I read as a teenager are now by the technicality of years. ‘Pretty Things’ by Sara Manning was a book that really changed my perspective at the age of 15, and now I am suddenly realising it was first published in 2005, nearly 10 years ago. This, whilst frightening the hell out of me, also placed the book in a time frame of developing attitudes, and was something that I really hadn’t taken into account when I read it the first time round.
                ‘Pretty Things’ is a really interesting depiction of teenage sexuality, and is still one of the only books (hold on to your hats, this is the book’s crowning glory) that portrays sexuality as a fluid thing, particularly in teenagers, and really highlights how damaging the block labels of gay, straight, and bisexual can be. Centred around Brie, Charlie, Walker and Daisy’s drama group’s production of ‘The Taming of The Shrew’ (described by the hard-core Daisy as “the biggest pile of misogynistic wank”, and as an English student, I support her in this), we see these characters explore their own and each other’s attraction towards each other, in a far more realistic way than I think my older self would like to believe. Looking back at what I knew of teenage life and the importance of who you were attracted to and who you kissed, taking into account the time the book is written, I had to face the fact that the way the characters act is likely more realistic than this cringing reviewer would like to believe. It was when sexuality had only just become an acceptable thing to mention in schools, and though a still pretty homophobic environment, there was a huge amount of dubbing yourself as “gay” being like a celebrity scandal: you were the talk of everyone for a few weeks, you felt like Katy Perry, and then you wrote it off as a mistake and pretended it didn’t happen. It was horrifically disheartening and cruel to those actually suffering crises of their sexuality. Whilst re-reading this book, and, as far as I recall, reading it the first time, I nearly put it down within the first few chapters, as the initial depictions of the characters as gay boy, straight girl, straight boy and lesbian were such incredible stereotypes. But realising that Manning was setting them up to knock them down is only a journey I can appreciate more in a re-read.
                This may the book’s greatest strength and, at the same time, its greatest flaw. I’m lucky and happy to say I made it past the opening character profiles, but this was mainly owing to the humour in the book (their darling drama teacher was edging for my favourite character spot in the first few chapters), and whilst I’m glad I held on, I can’t help but think about those that didn’t. This book really does show the breaking of those stereotypes, and how those stereotypes of sexuality are built into young people, and how they believe that sexuality is a rigid idea, no grey area, just simple categories. The problem was that it doesn’t show this to you until the romantic entanglements start getting a little complicated. This delay really could have put me off the book quite easily, particularly as Brie’s character was very wearing at first, and I wasn’t too pleased about Daisy either. I’ll be honest, portrayal of women is not the strong point of ‘Pretty Things’, but I can at least see where Manning was aiming for with it, even if she didn’t succeed. There are exceptions to this, for example, in a scene where Brie is nearly sexually assaulted towards the end of novel, and the gang come up to save her, Brie is already beginning to fight off her attacker, although this moment is slightly blotted by the need for the boys, Walker and Charlie, to beat the guy up in penance for his actions. “Bizarre macho display” indeed Charlie.
                Overall, I am really glad to have been able to read this book again. It brightened me a little to think of how far teenage (and adult for that matter) thinking on portraying and understand of sexuality in novels, especially YA novels, had come even back in 2005. I do worry a little at the amount of tokenised characters one tends to see in media and literature aimed at children and young people, so it always raises my optimism bar to remind myself it may not all be like that.

Friends Definitely Let Friends Read - 'Team Human' by Sarah Rees Brennan and Justine Larbalestier

A few weeks ago, I reviewed Holly Black’s clever twist on the typical vampire idealism with her fantastic fantasy ‘The Coldest Girl inCold Town’. This week, I wanted to review to review ‘Team Human’ by Sarah Rees Brennan and Justine Larbalestier, another YA vampire variation, before the little voice in the back of my head chimed in. “Too similar Frankie, too, too similar.” No, I answered the voice, I want my readers to keep Holly Black in mind when they read this, I want them to share my experience of echoes and the spotting of key differences and similarities, creating the same fascinating comparing experience that happened to me. The voice in the back of my head shrugged and sulked, but it said okay, so here goes.
                ‘Team Human’ is another book I really stumbled into in an odd sort of way, and was rather perplexed by. The first point of it that really got me twisting my hair round my fingers in confusion was that vampires in this book are not all that great (at least to the narrator Mel). In every fantasy I have read, the fantasy characters, although always an ‘other’ to the human, and usually dangerous, are glamorous, fixated upon, and above all, longed for (even if it’s a creepy, maybe-yes-maybe-no way). In ‘Team Human’, vampires appear far more like bored individuals, an aging population with nothing particularly vicious about them, barring a few exceptions. The removal of this danger from the vampires is partly just the perspective of the narrative, but, more than that, it really is a tribute to the two authors’ writing in that they make a relatively heavy thematic point in a pretty comedic fashion. The idea of ‘who is the real monster’ is not a new notion (remember Cold Town, remember the last letter which ponders whether the monster is inside all humans?) but in Team Human, instead of the monster in humans, we really see the human in the vampires.
                Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a book simply built out of parody and knitted together with happy co-operation and smiles – it, like most vampire novels, holds unto its gritty violence and a good amount of threat, but I really enjoyed the other side of this novel more. Whilst Holly Black’s earth of vampires trembled and shuddered with shadows bursting from corners, and the ever-creeping feeling of a time bomb inside the narrator ticked on, the world of ‘Team Human’ is described to be a kind of “Las Vegas”, and a lot less exciting than people seem to believe. More than anything, in this world, it is not the crisis of vampires they deal with, but the after effects, not the immediate appearance, but the prejudice and relations between humans and vampires that follows. Whilst I do prefer the thrilling terror of the Cold Town environment, I was fascinated by the rebuilt society that’s established in Sarah Rees Brennan and Justine Larbalestier’s novel.
                However, although I could nit-pick for quite a while on this book for its characters, I will channel my hesitant feelings into one form and that form is the character of Cathy. At first I mistook my misgivings for personal distaste (which I will admit, I am occasionally prone to), but by a third of the way through I began to believe Cathy as a character less and less. She became vaguer and vaguer, until a sudden character break of shouting, which seemed to fade all too fast. But I am torn even now for a final decision on my irritation with this, in regards to whether Cathy is simply written like this, or whether this static nature is a deliberate point of Mel’s perspective. I do hope for the latter, and it would make some form of sense, but fear the former may simply be the explanations (Occam’s razor and all that).
                Overall, I did really enjoy ‘Team Human’, demonstrated, more than anything, in the fact that I didn’t put it down (I read it in roughly two and a half hours). It probably isn’t one of the more technically ‘worthy’ novels I tend to review, but it’s exploration of a human side was something that I really haven’t come across in most kinds of fantasy, and something that keeps me a little conflicted even now.

Note to all: Hey all! I’m so very sorry for the lack of review last week, I have been having a horrible time with work and illness, and, unfortunately, I just couldn’t get around to the laptop or the reading. I shall continue next week as normal!

REWIND: The Fault In Our Stars by John Green

Rewind is a new thing I wanted to start here, in which I review books which I have re-read rather than read for the first time. Re-reading a novel is a weird experience that I know a lot of people can't always enjoy. Despite my endless enthusiasm for reading a book again and again and again, I know it is not everyone's cup of loose leaf peach and raspberry (I've always been a tea snob). I have thought about re-reading 'The Fault In Our Stars' since I read it about a year ago, and I have to be honest, it is undoubtedly still loved, but put into a little perspective after its initial assault on the feels has already been had, which drew out, for me, even more questions (and answers) about within the novel

Firstly, I began to question Hazel and Augustus' relationship a lot more (though to be fair to John Green's character construction, this was more to do with a lot of other people's quibbles with it, and I was worried I may have not noticed its lesser points initially). Oddly enough, when taking a close examination of Gus and Hazel's love, I actually enjoyed it even more. It felt comfortable but not predictable as a re-read, which I always believe to be a good sign, and I felt myself noticing the finer details of it even more. Hazel's realism of the relationship, of herself as a time bomb, did feel overdramatic at points, although, to be honest, if I was a teenager suffering from cancer, I can't exactly say that I'd be any less emotional and generally human.

This really brings me to my next point about TFIOS, and it is something I've raised before on A Midsummer Review, and that is that is portrays teenagers as teenagers. They act cliché and overly romantic, of course they do, they're teenagers, and they attempt to form themselves into individuals in a world, which is hard enough normally, but particularly in a world that tries to form them all to the "sick kid" stereotype. A lot of people have said Gus' cigarette idea is stupid and ridiculous, but what it sounded like to me? What it sounded like to me was the work of an actual teenager, trying to take a grown up and artistic take on a situation that is truly awful. 

The artisan nature of the novel is pretty clear from an initial reading, but a second attempt really drives it home. Many a friend of mine will tell you, I am not a fan of some of Oscar Wilde's work, simply because some of it feels as though it is written in the hope of being quoted, which I always find quite unsettling, as it feels an author attempts to hold the book to the quotes standard, rather than vica versa. TFIOS, as much as I loved it, did reach into this territory at points, and I felt this is likely the product of writing teenagers. It's hard to make omelette without throwing in a few wistful and too-deep-for-you phrases as it were- actually wait, I think my metaphors got mixed. 

All in all, a re-read of this proves to me that TFIOS holds it's ground even when a more critical eye is searching over it. I think this book is just as enjoyable on second reading, if not even more, as John Green's shining style for writing YA beams through.

Getting A Little Chilly With ‘The Coldest Girl In Coldtown’ by Holly Black

If there is one thing that YA seems to be doing amazingly well with right now, it is fantasy. Think of Twilight (try, I know, I don’t really want to do it either), but think of the ludicrous success that came from it. I’ve always thought fantasy was a pretty brilliant genre, and loved it whilst growing up, so I thought I would publicise a far better fantasy vampire novel (it’s okay, this will erase Twilight from your brain) and that is ‘The Coldest Girl In Coldtown’ by Holly Black.
                Oddly enough, when I first learnt about this book, I was having it read to me in a Foyles in Leicester Square, by Holly Black herself, with my over excited best friend next to me, gazing in awe. Originally, I barely knew Holly Black’s name, except that she wrote the Spiderwick Chronicles, which my little sister religiously believed, and Tithe, which my friend adored. It was from her reading of the chapter from ‘The Coldest Girl in Coldtown’ that my interest pricked a little, and from finally getting time to get around to reading it, I am sure as hell glad that I did. The book’s heroine, Tana, after waking up to discover that a house party she believed she embarrassed herself at has had far worse results for everyone else, sets on a journey with her ex and a stray vampire to a Coldtown, a place in which Vampires and those who are ‘Cold’ (pre-vampire) are annexed in order to protect citizens. That is the briefest summary I can give with little spoiler, but I cannot emphasise enough how this does not do the book justice.
                One of the things I liked most about this book is its integration of the vampire world to the real-world, and this, in corporation with Holly Black’s understanding of the late teenage ‘alternative’ grouping, creates a really brilliant, funny, and more than anything believable story. Something that is always seems forgotten in fantasy fiction, particularly in YA, you want your reader to want to, or at least be able to imagine themselves as, a part of your fantasy world. My personal opinion is that if you create some kind of universe that the reader can’t even remotely place themselves into, you need to go back and rethink a few details. I was really immersed in the setting of this book; I could see the Coldtown, and smell the fresh-spilled blood that seemed to lurk around every corner, and I kept wondering, staring down at my Docs, if, in the event of a serious vampire crisis, they’d have thick soles enough to kick a vampire in the teeth. This may just be my over-imaginativeness talking, but the detail set this book in such a good stead that even if the characters hadn’t been as good as they were, I still would have likely loved it.
                The characters, however, were the filling in a rather good version of almond sweet pastry, as they seemed to create the story, rather than the reverse. Call me crazy, but I’m never a big fan of plots dragging characters along with it like they got tied to a run away, Mary Poppins, merry-go-round horse. They functioned in really clever synchronisation, not allowing the story or its premise overwhelm them at any point, creating really intimately, well sculpted relationships between the characters as well. I have to admit the relationship of Winter and Midnight (two totally adorable children of the night who get just a little out of control) was almost flawless in the honest sense of devotion is portrayed, and I think, for me, it even rivalled the relationship of Tana and her sister Pearl. The story itself relies a lot on the concept of protection, family or friends, and the lure of selfishness, and so these relationships really hold well to the book.
                Overall, I really thought this booked risked be simply an antithesis to Twilight, but it was so, SO much more. It was gripping, funny and truly tragic at points but I have to be honest, I wouldn’t ever change that ending for the world. If you want to pick this book  up, I highly recommend following the Answerly ‘Let’s Read’, done by the fabulous Kristina Horner, which I link here. Enjoy all!

Quick personal note: You may notice that whilst I normally post on Fridays (because nothing says let’s kick of the weekend like a book review) this is a Thursday post as I am going to Kita-Con in Birmingham this weekend, but all will return to normal next week. See you all then J